


anchored as i drift

by haphazardstitches



Series: the hidden heart [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Minor Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haphazardstitches/pseuds/haphazardstitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lullaby echoed faintly from the edges of her mind. Its words, sung in a language foreign to Lexa the first time she heard it, snaked its way from ambiguity to recollection, and she inadvertently started humming along softly to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	anchored as i drift

**Author's Note:**

> A scene I wanted to put down on paper

Holding the bow of the key with her thumb and middle finger, she hesitated before turning it. The lock’s release was swift, letting out a sharp sound that echoed in the silent corridor. She pushed down on the door handle and entered the apartment.

Moonlight was seeping through the translucent curtains across an otherwise dark living room. Her eyes adjusted to the dim hue of her surroundings as she undid the scarf around her neck, folding the red fabric neatly in two before placing it on the kitchen counter.

With a light yank, she pulled off the folded note taped to the counter surface, slipped her thumb along the crease and flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the familiar scrawl, moving from one word to the next unhurriedly, and she allowed herself to return to the part of her life left behind each time she walked out the door.

 

  _Lexa,_

_We stayed at the bar till closing, and I dropped Anya off at the airport after._

_It’ll be awhile before she’s in town again._

_Clarke_

 

_PS. Don’t worry, we both knew you would have been there if you could’ve._

As she walked down the hall, past the open door of Clarke’s room, Lexa didn’t bother peering inside. She headed straight for her own, stopping at the threshold, where the warm glow emitted by her reading lamp reached its bounds. The wooden floorboard creaked under her boots as she moved forward to push the rest of partially ajar door open.

Leaning against the door frame, she peered at the occupant of her bed. Clarke was sitting against the headboard, with an open book held loosely in her hands.

“I’m sorry I missed Anya,” Lexa said in a hushed tone, striding slowly into the room.

At the edge of her four-poster bed, she brushed a hand against one of the columns before continuing.

“Didn’t expect to be stuck in a cell somewhere in the middle of a Moroccan desert with two idiots for nine hours. They talked in circles, then things got messy, but they gave me everything I needed eventually.”

“I considered blowing my cover, speed things along. I knew you’d be waiting for me,” Lexa paused, next to Clarke.

Bending down, she removed the book – _The Thirty-Six Strategems_ , from Clarke’s slack grip around it.

As she straightened up to place the volume on the nightstand, Clarke spoke, startling her, “Nah, you wouldn’t have taken the easy way out. Not till you got what you were there for.”

Breaking into a small smile at the sight of Clarke with her eyes still closed, speaking in voice tinged by sleep, Lexa lowered herself down on the edge of the bed and settled beside her.

“Surprised to see you reading this,” she flipped through the book casually, looking at Clarke from the side of her eye. The translated text was Lexa’s graduation present from Anya. She had intended to keep the book in good condition, but it was worn and yellowed from having been read cover to cover numerous times.

Barely awake, Clarke dropped her head lazily in the space between Lexa’s neck and shoulder as she replied, “I wanted to see what it’s like in your brain for a bit, but I think your lectures are more my speed. Shockingly.”

An involuntary smirk, only her second genuine display of emotion in the past two days, creeped its way onto Lexa’s face. She looked away from Clarke for a brief moment, eyes wandering across the familiar wooden beams of the ceiling, before coming to a stop at the balled up covers heaped at the lower half of the bed. Jutting out from the mass of sheets, Clarke’s pale, exposed thighs contrasted dramatically with the other pair brushing against them.

After a long day out in the field, this position - where Lexa was acutely aware of the weight of Clarke’s form against her own and the warm breaths of air grazing her neck - was cathartic. She felt the thoughts in her head quieten down and savoured the stillness of being home.

A lullaby echoed faintly from the edges of her mind. Its words, sung in a language foreign to Lexa the first time she heard it, snaked its way from ambiguity to recollection, and she inadvertently started humming along softly to it. The song was about a girl sitting by a river, praying for the safety of a man whom she secretly loved and yearned to see again, even if it would only be in her dreams.  

Lexa’s eyes flicked back to Clarke, confirming what her companion’s even breathing had already given away. Slipping one arm behind her back and the other beneath her thighs, she eased Clarke’s sleeping frame gently off her own and down onto the bed.

Instinctively turning the side of her face into the coolness of the pillow, Clarke let out a quiet grunt of satisfaction. She curled the rest of herself sideways, tucking her right elbow against her body, though her open palm and fingers were splayed close to Lexa’s thigh.

Lexa moved her gaze from Clarke’s fingertips, across the length her arm and past the effortless up-down movement of her chest. After running them along the contours of soft lips, her eyes settled momentarily on Clarke’s closed eyelids.

She turned away, releasing a breath, before reaching for the switch of the reading light.

Blanketed in darkness, Lexa regarded the space next to Clarke on the other side of the bed. After removing her boots - placing them down carefully, so they made no more than light thuds on the floor – and then the sheathed dagger clipped to the belt around her waist, Lexa got to her feet.

In a few quick strides, she was settled comfortably.

The futon by the window hardly saw any use, since Lexa spent almost all of her time out in the field, but lying there provided a clear view of Clarke, who was snoring lightly. Satisfied with her vantage point, Lexa allowed the fatigue of the past few days to finally overwhelm over her.


End file.
